Page 46 of Almost Perfect
“It is.”
She smiled, a small quirk of her lips, and there it went. Over the crux and plummeting down, g-force pulling my stomach through the floor.
“What about you? When’s the last time you learned to do something new?” She tilted her head, completely unaware of the internal loop-de-loop she’d set me on.
I couldn’t stay on that ride now, so I cranked the hand brake as best I could and funneled every bit of my will into thinking about her question. When did I last try something new? After a moment’s thought, I admitted, “I have no idea.”
And with that, it hit me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d learned something or done something new. It’d all been routine and monotony and developing skills I’d worked on for years. Not all bad, but didn’t humans stagnate without challenge? Without variety?
Cooking had been a small foray into that—new recipes, new flavors. But I’d always cooked, so the act itself wasn’t new.
But lately, things felt new. Like someone had scraped away the tinted film of my windshield, and I was seeing through crystalline glass again—or maybe for the first time. And what I saw was brutal in its surrender to mediocrity, in its refusal to change until so recently. And yet, there was hope, because here I was staring out, really seeing.
Maybe that was why Calla’s mere existence challenged me.
* * *
Not long after my revelation that I’d stagnated and was essentially bored with life, I walked Calla back to her place and returned home. I visited Sheridan and made sure his feed and water were fresh and that the trough heaters were working. We’d sprung for them a while back, and yeah, I’d griped about it. Now that we had them, I found myself consistently glad when temps dipped well below freezing, and I knew the horses wouldn’t be met with blocks of ice instead of fresh water to drink.
While brushing Sheridan, I thought about the morning. Or, really, I thought about every moment I’d had with Calla since I’d come face-to-face with her that first day she’d arrived.
“She’s only gotten more beautiful, if you can believe it,” I mumbled.
Sheridan snuffled and dipped his head, like he felt for me.
“Right? What am I supposed to do with that? She’s this… shooting star. She’s here, streaking across my sky, lighting it up and making my heart chase after her, but then she’ll be gone.”
I ran my hand along the smooth, slightly fuller hair of his sleek body. His coat grew thicker this time of year thanks to the shorter days and colder weather. In a few months, it’d thin a bit to accommodate the heat of summer.
“Shooting star, Wy? Sounds like someone’s got a true-blue crush.”
Sheridan shifted on his feet, and I turned to find Warrick, wearing a blazing smile and standing at the end of the stall.
Damn, he wouldn’t let that go, no matter how much I ignored it. Embarrassment tugged at me, but why should I feel embarrassed? I hadn’t felt much of anything for so long. I didn’t want to feel ashamed of my interest in Calla. I didn’t want to push it away because I was too used to waiting for something instead of embracing thatsomething—life—was already here.
“Thought you weren’t going to make it up.” I returned to my work, pulling the brush along Sheridan’s flank.
“Finished up a meeting early. Wanted to get Calla the info on the lunch thing, and like a genius, I forgot my laptop here yesterday. And I just…”
His words tapered off, and I glanced at him in time to see an unusual look cross his face.
“You okay?”
He nodded. “I’m just tired.”
I studied him while continuing the movement of the brush. He did look tired, now that I fully took him in. Dark smudges under his eyes, his face a little sallow, but that might’ve been the fluorescent light from the barn backlighting him. He’d thinned out a bit, but I’d assumed he was trimming down so he’d be in top form for his new boot camp endeavor.
Resisting the urge to prod, because that wouldn’t get me anywhere right now, I nodded. “Go take a nap. There are leftover waffles, or I can make you some eggs.”
“Nah. Got another meeting in town this afternoon.” He pulled his shoulders back and flashed his eyebrows. “Plus, I’d rather talk about this shooting star you’ve got on your mind.”
Heat flooded my cheeks in earnest now. I knew he wouldn’t give me too much crap, since he’d been so positive about Calla every other time it’d come up, but I didn’t want to talk to him about it. I grunted, hoping the sound would tell him so.
“Nah, you’re not getting away with that. Seriously, Wyatt.”
The use of my full name made me reluctantly turn to face him. “Warrick.”
